~ Spotlight ~

After centuries of imprisonment and torture, the Norse trickster Loki is freed for a day in payment for a good deed done years past. The god of deception promises to return but manages to find a way to turn that day into weeks. The only catch is he has to bring bartender John Murphy along for the ride, literally. While visiting distant worlds they are drawn into a war, fighting for those who cannot defend themselves. They are joined by goblins, trolls and a fugitive thunderer. In the midst of the struggle, Loki arrives at a crossroad. One way lies personal freedom, but at a terrible cost to the people he is trying to save. The other path may well destroy him, but could stop Ragnarok. Can someone considered evil truly change? Will Loki continue on the path to destruction or take his first steps on REDEMPTION ROAD.

PARTICIPANTS OF THE KARMA WAR speak out on REDEMPTION ROAD: "A dazzling display of story telling skill. If this book isn't on your bookshelves, your personal library is incomplete." -Murphy's Mom "A great book. Delicious as an appetizer or entree. Even better with a little salt."-Pace, Primitive Troll "War is hell. I should know. I've fought in a hundred campaigns on dozens of worlds. So in a choice between war and Murphy's book, I recommend the book. However I don't recommend using it as a weapon unless you're fighting tiny insects." -Tock, Goblin Commander "I can't guarantee this book will protect you against lightning strikes, but I can honestly said that I've never known anyone who owned this book that was struck by a thunderbolt. And I've seen plenty of people struck by lightning, usually right after they tick me off." -Thunder Jack, The god formerly known as Zeus

- Excerpt -

​“Don’t move,” said the little guy.
“You speak English?” I said.
“I speak lots of languages. That’s not important right now. They are going to blow you away if you so much as twitch.”
“Why?” I asked.
As I looked down into the little guy’s face, he had an exasperated expression. I seemed to get that look from people no matter where in the universe I was.
“Use of a weapon…” obviously, the metal pitcher, “…is forbidden. It’s the sniper’s job to enforce that.”
“The Establishment employs a sniper?”
“More than one.”
“So how do I get out of this?” I asked, being very careful to hold even my lips as still as possible.
“You’re not going to like the way out much better than this, but at least you’d still have a chance of surviving,” the little guy said.
Before the little guy could explain, Loki jumped in front of me, shielding me from the sniper with his own body.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Trying to save your butt,” said Loki. I almost asked him why, but decided not to look a gift Norse in the mouth. Besides, neither one of us had brushed since we had started this trip, so looking and smelling might not be the most pleasant experience. “Paddy would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you, and I am not going to explain to Moran why you died.”
“Thanks.” Loki nodded at me. “Can’t their guns hurt you?” I knew enough that even gods could be hurt when they took physical form.
“Yes, but with only one gun the sniper probably won’t be able to kill me.”
Just then, the troll began yelling at the sniper and, almost as if in answer to Loki’s whispered comment, there were suddenly a dozen laser skulls trained on Loki, the troll, the little guy, and myself. There was only one on me and on the little guy. Loki and the troll rated five each, each in strategic locations, the most disturbing of which was one that would ensure the pair would be singing soprano for a very long time.
Loki looked almost frantic, glaring back and forth among the dozen snipers who had turned their attentions on us. “Murphy, I can get out of this, but I have no idea how to get you out safely. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t forget about the rest of us,” growled the little guy without moving his jaw. He had frozen holding onto my pant leg.
“The little guy had an idea. He said that I wouldn’t like it, but I had a chance of surviving it,” I said.
“Now that I am this closely involved, I’m not sure if I like it,” said the little guy.
“What is it?” demanded Loki.
“The Pit.”
Loki swore for about twenty seconds under his breath. I knew that couldn’t be good.

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~ Spotlight ~

​High school student Malakai Thomas, star wide receiver of the varsity team, collides with band member Lily Morgan on his way to football practice. As days go by, Malakai cannot get the petite clarinetist out of his head. Lily Morgan can feel everyone's emotions. She loses her ability to shield herself against them the day Malakai runs into her. Now she must try to maintain her sanity in the emotional jungle that is high school, as well as deal with her growing feelings for Malakai. Can Malakai get over the social stigma and his own internal struggle to be with Lily? Is Lily's secret too big to accept, even for him? ​

- Excerpt -

“I wonder what would happen if you lost your ability to shield.”That simple question from Lily’s best friend, Sandra, almost got them killed. As Lily Morgan drove them to school for their band practice in her Mini Cooper, it took all of her limited driving skills to keep them on the narrow suburban road and not in the ditch.“Let’s not ever mention that again!” Lily’s heart raced at the thought of it.Sandra Jones was the best friend anybody could dream of. She was also everything Lily was not. She was outgoing, tall, and beautiful with her long, straight blond hair and blue eyes. She always wore the nicest outfits, and guys regularly asked her out on dates. She could have been part of the popular crowd had she wanted to, but she was perfectly content being in the marching band, just like Lily.Sandra and her family, in addition to Lily’s uncle, Charlie, were the only people alive who knew what Lily could do: she had the ability to feel the emotions of the people around her. The only way for her to function and have a close to normal life was to build mental shields, which prevented the barrage of emotions from continuously assaulting her. Sandra knew how important shielding was to Lily, particularly in an emotion-infested place like high school.“Just saying. I mean, you’ve been giving me the silent treatment since we left home. I had to find a way to make you talk.”“Well, that’s not a good subject on a good day.”“What’s eating you then?”“My mother, again.”“I don’t understand. Why don’t you take Charlie up on his offer and move in with him?”“It’s my house, Sandra. If anything, she should be the one moving out.”“Not going to happen, not until the courts kick her out. You know that better than I do. She’s not going anywhere.”Her friend was right, unfortunately.“Can we move on to another subject?”“What did she want this time?” Sandra asked instead. “Another party to introduce you to your future husband?”As Lily nodded, she could easily imagine Sandra rolling her eyes. If she hadn’t been driving, she was sure she would have seen her do exactly that.“I don’t get it,” Sandra continued. “She’s not even your real mother.”“I don’t get it either. Why does she keep throwing me at those guys?”“Beats me. Did you say no?”Lily remained quiet. She never said no. She still held the hope that if she did exactly what her mother requested, maybe one day she would approve of her.Hope definitely made people stupid.“When will you, Lily?” Sandra asked, turning toward her. “You deserve better than this.”Lily sighed. She had tried to explain it numerous times before, but Sandra never understood. After all, Sandra’s mother loved her and was always so proud of her.“David said football practice starts today,” Sandra said, changing the subject.Lily felt her best friend’s eagerness at sharing the news, and she knew what was coming next.“Malakai will be there.”Ever since she had admitted to Sandra that she liked the star wide receiver over a year ago, Sandra brought him up every chance she had.“Why don’t we talk about your love life for a change?” Lily asked.“Oh, no, we’re so not. Yours is so much more fun.”It was Lily’s turn to roll her eyes. “So, what else did David say?”“They should begin practice around nine this morning.”“They have it so much easier than we do,” Lily said, turning onto the access road that led behind the school.“You got that one right. If they practiced half as much as we did, they would wear paths in the football field.”“That’s probably why we practice on hot, steamy asphalt,” Lily said as they arrived in the parking area.“It sucks, really. Why don’t we get to practice their amount of hours and they, ours?”“Because what we do is more complicated?” Lily suggested with a smile.Sandra shrugged and glanced out the window.“Look at it on the bright side.”“There is one?” Sandra asked, irony coating her tone.“No!”They were both laughing when Lily pulled into her usual parking spot.

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Spotlight

Lets admit it. The world is far from perfect. Nobody believes in magic anymore. Or gods. Or vampires. Hope itself is on the endangered list. Especially in New York City. Despite this there is a place in Manhattan where the impossible not only exists but bellies up to the bar to drink its fill. Owned by a leprechaun, staffed by gods and mortals it is a second home to the legends of our day, led there by the simple magic of the rainbow. The name of the place is Bulfinche’s Pub. One never knows what will come in the door next: Armageddon or a man with no socks. Whatever happens two things are certain. Hope and Happiness never die and the first drink is always on the house.

The staff and patrons of Bulfinche’s Pub speak out on Tales From Bulfinche’s Pub"A MASTERPIECE. THE MUST READ OF THE YEAR." - Murphy's Mom."EXHILARATING AND BEAUTIFUL. HILARIOUS AND TOUCHING. And those were just the parts with me in it. Beats the Iliad and the Odyssey hands down." -HERCULES, god hero, bouncer at Bulfinche’s Pub."I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN. Murphy glued it to my hand." -ROY G. BIV, paraplegic clown, patron."PLACES FOURTH ON MY LIST AFTER WINE, WOMEN AND SONG." -DIONYSUS, god of wine, woman and song. Bartender at Bulfinche’s Pub."WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD, AT LEAST IN PAPERBACK."-PADDY MORAN, leprechaun. Owner and proprietor of Bulfinche's Pub"DEVILISHLY CLEVER." -MATHEW, angel on the lam, dishwasher.

Excerpt

The mist followed him in, hot on his heels. Behind him, the first rays of sunrise started to bathe the Manhattan skyline in a warm, orange, luminescent lather. The haze on the city outside was slowly being eaten away by the lazy nibbles of the morning light.

A black trenchcoat draped his gaunt frame. From the company I kept, I knew that could be trouble. White skin and a look of desperation were drawn tight over high cheek bones. The face as a whole was as pale as the moon in twilight, yet his eyes almost glowed a deep crimson. The fact that they were bloodshot didn’t hurt the effect. Straight black hair adorned the top of his head. It was grimy, unkempt, and made his skin appear even paler by contrast.

His two legs carried him into the bar easily enough, but then rebelled, forcing him to drop to one knee on the hardwood floor. The man began to tremble like a leaf caught in a hurricane. His eye lids were fluttering like the wings of a humming bird, and he appeared to be having trouble focusing his vision. The signs were easily recognizable. Bulfinche’s newest visitor was a junkie.

“Help me,” he begged, his raspy voice barely audible.

“What do you need?” I asked, not yet recognizing his particular addiction.

“A drink,” he said simply. He had come to the right place; with no false modesty, we had the best stocked pub anywhere. Still, the pale man didn’t look like someone going through the DT’s.

“Name it. We have anything you could ask for,” I said confidently, helping him off the floor and into a chair. The man moved oddly, almost lurching, as if he wasn’t used to carrying his own body weight.
He decided to put me to the test.

“Blood,” he blurted out, shame shining sorrowfully in his red eyes. He waited for an outward reaction from me. When it never came, he added, “In a dirty glass.”

Odd request, but I’ve had odder. What could I do? I had said anything. Taking a sharp knife from behind the bar, I made a small incision over the vein in my left wrist. The draining blood filled two shot glasses before I shut off the tap. I put them and a third, this one of vodka, into a beer mug. Adding a twist of lime, I stirred it with a celery stick. I always said the morning shift would bleed me dry, but this was ridiculous. After sterilizing the cut with whiskey and bandaging my wrist, I poured a glass of O.J. for myself. I brought both glasses to the table and joined the man to make a toast.

“To your good health.”

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Spotlight

Werewolf Ted Brand had not had an easy life. His soulmate Shan is a wolf & his twin cubs change into human children when the moon is full. Fortunately, he found Bulfinche's Pub where folks don't look down on his lifestyle choices. In a flash, his life has completely unraveled. Ted has been beaten, his family taken by another more powerful werewolf. To make matters even worse, he has found out Paddy Moran has kept secrets in order to protect him. To track down and save his family, Ted will have to unlock the secrets of the werewolf in order to stop the rogue D.M.A. agent Buck Lang. His quest will take him from the Washington, D.C. headquarters of the Department of Mystic Affairs to the Eternity Club in Philadelphia. Ted thinks he has to go it alone, but the staff & patrons of Bulfinche's Pub take care of their own, whether they want it or not. With the help of the cursed magí Hex, vampyre Lucas Wilson, two former Knights of the Round Table, & bartender John Murphy, Ted will get his family back, no matter who or what stands in the way.

The patrons of Bulfinche’s Pub speak out on THE SHADOW OF THE WOLF:“DESTINED TO BE A CLASSIC.” -MURPHY’S MOM“A BOOK WORTHY OF A KING. HERE KING...” -Sir Dagonet, The Infinite Jester, former Knight of the Round Table“RED HOT STUFF!” -Mox Monroe, Department of Mystic Affairs agent, fire demigoddess“ON THE ADVICE OF MY ATTORNEY, I CANNOT COMMENT ON THE EVENTS OF THIS BOOK.” -Buck Lang, rogue DMA agent, werewolf

Excerpt

Lastly, the intruder turned his attention on our host, but Ted was a split second faster. He already had closed the distance between himself and the attacker. Ted wrapped his hands around the man-wolf’s throat. The intruder laughed. His laugh was a dark thing, not the growl of a wolf or the sound of a man, but some sort of freakish hybrid.

“Pitiful. You can’t even transform without the moon, can you?”

With hand-paws, the man wolf grabbed Ted’s arms and bent them back. Ted’s grip was forced open and he went down on one knee.

“Who are you?” demanded Ted.

“I thought that your friends would have told you about me by now, if for nothing else than the curiosity value.”

A light went on in Ted’s head. “You’re Buck.”

Buck laughed again, and it wasn’t any more pleasant the second time. “Very good.”

“What the hell are you doing? I thought you were a federal agent,” said Ted, pulling his arms free and stepping back while simultaneously kicking out at Buck’s hind knee. Buck was just a split second faster and moved before the blow could connect.

“I am, and I’m here in that capacity. I have a warrant,” said Buck.

“A warrant? But I haven’t done anything,” said Ted.

This time Buck snickered, and it wasn’t any more pleasant than his laugh. “Oh, the warrant’s not for your arrest. It’s for the retrieval of property, namely those half-breed pups and their mother,” said Buck.

“I’ll kill you before I let you take my family,” said Ted, launching himself at Buck’s gut. Buck stepped back, but not quite fast enough. Ted caught him around the mid-section. Buck spun back, while simultaneously striking a blow between Ted’s shoulder blades. Ted fell to the floor.

“You are one sick S.O.B. Not only do you do it with a real wolf, but you pretend to marry her because you knocked her up. I wouldn’t do that with a human woman, let alone with a wolf bitch,” said Buck. “However, your offspring have many potential uses, which is why the federal government is confiscating them.”

“That’s my family. We have rights,” said Ted, still easing himself up from the floor.

“You do, but as far as the federal government is concerned your so-called family is just a bunch of animals. Hell, you don’t even have them licensed, I bet. The government can do whatever it wants with them.”

“You touch my family, I’ll kill you,” growled Ted.

“Too late and doubtful,” said Buck, smiling through the fur on his face.

The time for words had ended. Ted again launched himself at Buck, but Buck had been expecting him this time. The agent merely stepped aside while reaching out and adding to Ted’s momentum, tossing him out the same window that Buck had smashed in. As Ted landed and tumbled across the lawn, Buck gracefully leapt out the window to stand beside him. Ted rolled to avoid Buck’s fist smashing downward and bumped into a large steel-mesh cage, lined with silver. He looked up and saw his family.

“No!” Ted reached up and tried to yank the lock off with his bare hands, but the metal would not bend.

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~ Spotlight ~

The legendary gang from Bulfinche's Pub in New York City returns in new stories in which: A bridge jumper is saved by a god in winged sneakers while the goddess of suicides & a guardian of graves hunt a beast that feeds on death; the cosmic chicken lays an egg as toilet goddesses & a god help Murphy out with a problem; a priest manages to stop a murder without breaking the seal of the confessional; talking babies reveal that some gods feast on certain souls in the afterlife & we find the succubus Ryth & angel Mathew are expecting; a foolish criminal tries to start a protection racket in the neighborhood of Bulfinche's Pub; a woman gets a last chance in a game of bingo where Death & The Fates are playing; a date rapist learns that Hell hath no fury like a baby shower; Hercules & other warriors learn it takes more than strength to be a hero; the satyr Fred saves a girl enslaved to a news anchor; The Mother of the Streets gets a job; & the only one who can save Paddy Moran & the world from the rising of an elder evil is... bartender John Murphy?

Patrons of Bulfinche's Pub speak out on BARTENDER OF THE GODS: "IF EVERYONE IN THE WORLD READ THIS BOOK, IT WOULD BE A MUCH BETTER PLACE. It would mean that my son would have more royalties to spend on his mother," -Murphy's Mom. "I FOUND IT FASCINATING. THEN AGAIN, ALL I USUALLY HAVE TO READ IS TOMBSTONES," Moni, Lasa/Graveyard Angel, guardian of graves. "MUCH MORE PLEASANT THAN THE PROSPECT OF LABOR," Ryth, pregnant succubus. "I COULDN'T WISH FOR BETTER," Tommy, jinn, hot dog vendor. "I COULD," Edgar Tonic, hot dog vendor.

- Excerpt -

​Terrorbelle ran, firing backwards at the stag at her heels. It hit her in the back with a head butt. Her razor sharp wings buzzed and cut the stag, but the force of the blow knocked her down. Terrorbelle hit her head and was still. The closest one to her was Thor. The thunderer was moving toward her, but was still woozy. He wasn’t going to make it in time.

I was still on Terrorbelle’s bike, and without conscious thought, had started revving the engine the moment T-Belle was hit. I had the motorcycle moving full out before she hit the ground.

“Hey Bambi, eat this,” I said. Okay, it wasn’t the greatest banter ever, but I was trying to save a friend. I managed to pop the front wheel as I went over a large rock and the bike was airborne, as long as two feet off the ground qualified. I leapt off, landing on top of Terrorbelle. The bike hit the Caliginosity in the chest, making it stagger back a couple of steps, by which time Thor had reached us.

“Gas tank!” I yelled. Unlike the movies, gas tanks don’t just burst into flames when you crash them. It takes a spark. In this case, the spark was provided by a lightning bolt, courtesy of Thor.

I used my body to shield Terrorbelle, but a gale force wind provided again by the thunderer prevented anything from hitting us.

I gently slapped T-Belle’s face while sitting on top of her. Her eyes rolled open and looked into mine. “I must be in Heaven.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I think I need mouth to mouth,” she said.

I grinned. “You’re fine.”

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~ Spotlight ~

Sometime in the not so distant future... In the wake of the destruction of New York City by a mad god, legends and former barflies of Bulfinche's Pub venture out to distant worlds as Startenders in order to help those in need, both human and alien. Join former bartender John Murphy, the head honcho of the barship Fools' Glory and its crew of tricksters - Loki, Coyote, the daughter of Pan, a dragon demi-goddess, a golden melog and a sentient plant in their latest adventures as they are called upon to stop the bastart descendants of Bast from achieving godhood with the help of an intergalactic spy network run by cats; are recruited by the Grim Reaper himself to stop a serial killer who slaughters entire planets; go on a collection job to the planet of Ogra to negotiate with a city's ruler, a woman who would rather let billions die than pay her whiskey bill; rescue an old friend from the emperor god of the interstellar Goblin Empire; work to stop a terrorist plot in orbit around the Earth; try to prevent a dying star from going supernova and wiping out three inhabited worlds and find the ultimate constellation prize. Praise for Startenders from the cast and crew:

"Just when you think he can't get any better, Murphy manages to top himself and he hits one out of the solar system," - Murphy's Mom "Better than a year's supply of catnip," - Bast, cat-headed Egyptian goddess, Startender and head of the Cynosure spy network "Murphy's okay, but he's not that great. He was dumb enough to let me on his crew and foolish enough to lose a bet with me, which explains why he's wearing that ridiculous spandex sci-fi jumpsuit on the cover," - Coyote, Native American trickster god, Startender

"Hilariously intelligent," -Luke Reviews

- Excerpt -

“You’re lucky I even allowed you to do business with me. Why, most of our everyday technology must seem like magic to you.”

“No, I’ve seen magic. It’s much more impressive.”

Although this world had technology much more advanced than Earth, the existence of magic was not widely accepted here. Ogra’s tech was very imposing and included orbit based battle platforms that could hold off an armada. A full frontal assault on our part would have been foolhardy.

Vapella continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Let me assure you that my experts, from the greatest civilization in the galaxy, I might add, found your libations wanting.”

“So you went off-world then?” I said and got a glare for my trouble. Neither my trouble nor I wanted it and I did my best not to return it.

“No, I did not.”

“And who would these experts be?” I asked.

“Why me, of course.” Her smile was the best money on her world could buy, complete with shiny green teeth, but the condescension in it was all natural talent. “Your baleful beverage is barely better than urine.”

“So you are an expert on the taste of urine? Interesting. How many glasses a day do you have to drink to get that good? Where do you get the best urine? Do you find much work or do you have to hang around public rest rooms to practice? If it would help you perfect your craft, we’d be happy to trade some for what we need.”

“I was being invective.”

“You look it, but we’ve had our shots.”

Puns never translated well and I got a blank stare. I knew I was nervous and angry from the amount of wisecracking I was doing.

“Three billion lives on Gallop hang in the balance. We agreed to trade the whiskey for the solance.” Hermes was tending to the people as best he could. Assuming we got the solance, it would still take him the better part of a day to mix up the cure. For anyone else it would take a lot longer. Distributing it will take an estimated day and a half and that’s figuring in everyone we have available helping. That meant we didn’t have much time left to fix the issue with Lord Idiot here then get the solance to Gallop. “We approached you in good faith in order to save those people. As I understand matters, you took delivery after sampling the whiskey. Quite a lot of it.”

“Exactly. By the time I took delivery, I was drunk, and simply was not of sound mind. Under Ograte trade rules that invalidates the contract. And worse, I felt quite bad the next day.”

I put my hand on my forehead and tried not to yell. “You decide to get drunk, get a hangover because of that choice, and then use it as an excuse not to pay your bill. And cause billions of deaths.”

“I would not have put it so crudely. It’s not that I don’t feel for them. Perhaps the Gallopans have something else they’d like to trade. Maybe accepting my sovereignty. I’ve been looking to expand my holdings and an entire world would be nice.”

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~ Spotlight ~

When Darkness Falls... The DMA Picks Up The Pieces.

After battling the demon serial killer within him, the Department of Mystic Affairs offers Karver a change at redemption as a federal agent.With his empath partner Mandi Cobb,they protect and serve the innocent, by taking on zombie rasiers, a twisted faerie kidnapper, a mage's hidden heart, Lovecraftian horrors, a nexus of evil so vile the president has considered using a nuclear option on American soil, those who make deals with the devil and use children's faces to do their evil, the beast with two backs and Karver's own past.

Praise for The DMA Casefiles: "THOMAS SHOWS AGAIN WHAT A MASTER FANTIST HE IS." - Sam Tomanio. SFRevu

"As much as I wanted to hide my eyes behind my hands, peeking through the slits of my fingers, I could not help but continue reading... Thomas mixes ancient lore with what I like to call keyhole terror. The effect is a breakneck ride through established myths with full-bodied characters, while glimpsing the effects of horror through a keyhole, not in your face blood and gore, but the hint of its occurrence. Just enough scare to set the scene, the reader assumes the rest. The effect is one hell of a ride... Recommended for readers who like dark fantasy with a subtle twist of terror." - Rae Bryant, The Fix

- Excerpt -

“Something’s wrong.”

“Not all kids have a curfew,” I said.

“That’s not it. I’m getting no emotions off of her,” said Mandi.

Then I felt the slightest tingle on the back of my neck. My time as a possessed left me with the ability to sense different types of magic. Those involving Hell or demons I’m most sensitive to. If the girl was a demon or possessed herself, I would have known she was coming long before we could see her.

“I think it’s a dead girl walking,” I said.

The demon also enhanced my eyesight. As soon as the girl in the pink dress passed beneath a streetlight, my heart skipped a beat.

“It’s Winnie. The bastard raised her daughter,” I said, getting out of the car. A rage that wasn’t entirely this sicko’s fault took me over.

“Karver, get back in here. The raiser could be anywhere. We don’t want to give away our position,” said Mandi.

I was beyond listening. One of my dead was walking, and I had to stop Winnie before her mother saw her, or the emotional damage to Lucy would be something I couldn’t imagine.

When I got close enough to the zombie child, I realized I didn’t have a plan. Protocol dictates the best way to stop a zombie is to dismember it and separate the pieces. I had already sliced up this little girl once. I carried two blades under the back of my coat, but I couldn’t bring myself to use them on her – not again.

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~ Spotlight ~

​High school student Malakai Thomas, star wide receiver of the varsity team, collides with band member Lily Morgan on his way to football practice. As days go by, Malakai cannot get the petite clarinetist out of his head. Lily Morgan can feel everyone's emotions. She loses her ability to shield herself against them the day Malakai runs into her. Now she must try to maintain her sanity in the emotional jungle that is high school, as well as deal with her growing feelings for Malakai. Can Malakai get over the social stigma and his own internal struggle to be with Lily? Is Lily's secret too big to accept, even for him?

- Excerpt -

﻿﻿“I wonder what would happen if you lost your ability to shield.”

That simple question from Lily’s best friend, Sandra, almost got them killed. As Lily Morgan drove them to school for their band practice in her Mini Cooper, it took all of her limited driving skills to keep them on the narrow suburban road and not in the ditch.

“Let’s not ever mention that again!” Lily’s heart raced at the thought of it.

Sandra Jones was the best friend anybody could dream of. She was also everything Lily was not. She was outgoing, tall, and beautiful with her long, straight blond hair and blue eyes. She always wore the nicest outfits, and guys regularly asked her out on dates. She could have been part of the popular crowd had she wanted to, but she was perfectly content being in the marching band, just like Lily.

Sandra and her family, in addition to Lily’s uncle, Charlie, were the only people alive who knew what Lily could do: she had the ability to feel the emotions of the people around her. The only way for her to function and have a close to normal life was to build mental shields, which prevented the barrage of emotions from continuously assaulting her. Sandra knew how important shielding was to Lily, particularly in an emotion-infested place like high school.
“Just saying. I mean, you’ve been giving me the silent treatment since we left home. I had to find a way to make you talk.”

“Well, that’s not a good subject on a good day.”

“What’s eating you then?”

“My mother, again.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t you take Charlie up on his offer and move in with him?”

“It’s my house, Sandra. If anything, she should be the one moving out.”

“Not going to happen, not until the courts kick her out. You know that better than I do. She’s not going anywhere.”

Her friend was right, unfortunately.

“Can we move on to another subject?”

“What did she want this time?” Sandra asked instead.

“Another party to introduce you to your future husband?”

As Lily nodded, she could easily imagine Sandra rolling her eyes. If she hadn’t been driving, she was sure she would have seen her do exactly that.
“I don’t get it,” Sandra continued. “She’s not even your real mother.”

“I don’t get it either. Why does she keep throwing me at those guys?”

“Beats me. Did you say no?”

Lily remained quiet. She never said no. She still held the hope that if she did exactly what her mother requested, maybe one day she would approve of her.
Hope definitely made people stupid.

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~ Spotlight ~

For most people, that’s a question that never comes up. Medium Seth Gabriel isn’t most people and for him, it’s another normal day in an abnormal life.

It’s bad enough that his love life has seen better days but his personal problems are only the half of it. Seth’s ghost hunting business, SG Cleaning Services hasn’t seen a client in weeks and he’s desperate for a paycheck. Things look up when two potential clients seek him out.

Courtney Reeves hires Seth to investigate a paranormal disturbance in her home. On the surface it’s a run of the mill cleaning job but when you deal with the dead for a living, there’s no such thing as routine. The close of the case is the start of even bigger problems and Seth will find that, while there’s nothing to fear from the dead, the living are another story.

When the nervous and persistent Evan Gallagher enters his life, Seth sees the promise of a big payday. There’s only one catch. The wealthy lawyer thinks his wife is possessed by a demon. Seth doesn’t believe in demons…not anymore, but the money is too good to turn down. Is Evan crazy or is he one hundred percent sane? As Seth digs deeper, he’ll ask the same question of himself.

For a guy who’s coasted through life on not much more than Greek takeout, tequila, and attitude, Seth’s going to have to dig deep to survive what will turn out to be a very bad week.

- Excerpt -

“Okay, Evan. Let’s get down to brass tacks here, m’kay? Let’s say your wife is a demon
—and I’m not saying I actually believe that—but let’s say for a second or two that it’s true.
What do you want meto do about it?” I jerked a thumb at myself. “I deal in ghosts, as I’m
pretty sure you know being that you dug into my background and found me in the first place.
What makes you think I can do anything about a demon?”

“I know about your experience in high school…”

I held up a hand. “Evan, I was a troubled kid. You don’t even want to know what I went
through after my experience. All I know is that I’ve never seen anything like what you’re
describing, and I don’t know of anybody who has. Not legitimately. And even if I did, what
makes you think I’d know what to do about it?”

“Do you or do you not take care of people’s ghost problems?” He was in full on litigator
mode now. I felt like I was on the witness stand getting cross examined by Perry-shitting-Mason
in my own fucking office.

“You already know the answer to that, man.”

“Ghosts are supernatural, are they not?”

“Sure.”

“Would you say demons, or at least demon-like entities, are the same thing?”

I shrugged. “I guess for argument’s sake you could say that. If they exist, which I’m not
saying they do.”

“I’ve spoken with quite a few of your clients, Mr. Gabriel. Nobody knows exactly how it
is you do what you do, but you get results. I know many don’t believe in ghosts, but the fact of
the matter is that people have disturbances, people you’ve never met before in your life. They
call you with no prior relationship in evidence, and you show up, do what you do, and voila!” He
made a magician’s flourish with his hands. “No more disturbances. If you can get rid of ghosts
using your methodologies, and we assume ghosts and ‘demons’ are of the same ilk, maybe
there’s something you could do.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“Why do you fight the existence of demons so much, Seth? You freely admit in ghostly
presences, but you fight against the existence of other supernatural things. Why?”

Because last time I thought I saw something like that, it drove me crazy enough to try and
off myself, maybe?

“And, in your experience, have you ever had someone possessed by a ghost?” he
continued.

“Well, no. They can make a ruckus and screw with people, but I’ve never had a client
that was taken over by one. That’s just not how they operate.”

“I rest my case,” he said, hands on his hips, chin jutted out in victory. I could tell that
Evan Gallagher was a hell of a lawyer. He almost had me convinced. And he did make some
valid points, some points I never really thought about or avoided thinking about altogether.

Please Click "Read More" or "Read in Browser" for Today's LIST

~ Spotlight ~

HOPE AND HAPPINESS MAY NEVER DIE... BUT PEOPLE DO... It's never a good sign for the living when the dead rise & leave empty graves behind. In this of zombie tales Murphy & friends face down a jinn's death wish; Moni the Graveyard Angel tries to close down a brothel offering dead women to their clients; in Camelot, the Infinite Jester learns the cauldron of life is not all it's reputed to be; Agent Karver must face down one of his dead that has left her grave; a vampyre zombie & a tiny necronate cause trouble in the Crimson Midnights; the Council of Thrones calls upon Nemesis to ensure a solider answers for his part in a genocide; in the alternate future of the Mysticaust the honored dead rise to defend Uncle Sam against a traitor; in the past Faerie soldiers forever scar young Terrorbelle & kill her mother for a darker purpose; Zombielicious lets her marital strife spill out onto the streets of New York; a mother asks Hex to kill her baby, but the infant's already dead & eating the neighbors; the Soul for Hire learns the hard way that a bullet for the dead isn't always enough to stop them; & Hell's Detective must capture a demon possessed zombie before it slaughters more innocents.

​The patrons of Bulfinche's Pub speak out on EMPTY GRAVES: "A STUNNING ACHIEVEMENT! IF I HAD TO BE BURIED ON A DESERT ISLAND, THIS IS THE BOOK I'D BRING," - MURPHY'S MOM. "MORE FUN THAN A DIRGE," - MONI, the Graveyard Angel. "ALMOST AS HOT AS ME," - the corpse known as ZOMBIELICIOUS. "NOW THAT I'VE READ THIS, I CAN DIE HAPPY. THAT WAY I'D NEVER HAVE TO READ IT AGAIN," - Negrel, Hell's Detective

- Excerpt -

﻿Argus did his usual recon of the target. McMillian didn’t bother much with bodyguards or vests. He barely bothered looking up and down a street before he left a building. It was too easy.

City born and breed, the Soul for Hire didn’t know much about looking gift horses in the mouth, but if he did, he was the type who would be checking for plastic explosives disguised as teeth.

Because it looked so simple, he did extra surveillance, but McMillian was still as sloppy with personal security on day five as he was on day one.

Day six was when Argus took the shot. As a hitman, he obviously did sniper work. With the marksmanship gifts the Devil had given him in exchange for his soul, it was child’s play. Within the physical specs of a weapon’s force and range, he literally couldn’t miss. It didn’t mean the target couldn’t shift or something couldn’t suddenly block the bullet’s path, but Argus was a professional and accounted for that.

Still, he did not take a life, even that of another killer, lightly. Whenever feasible, he tried to do the deed up-close and personal. It was one of the few times he took off his sunglasses. At the moment of death, even a scumbag deserved the respect of being looked in the eyes by the man who killed him. Of course, his safety and continued freedom often dictated a different approach, but McMillian seemed like a cakewalk.

Of course, strolling on a cake big enough to walk across would be akin to walking through a swamp filled with sticky sweet quicksand.

Argus stepped out of an alley, his gun already pointed at McMillian’s face. He waited until their gazes met, and then put a bullet between the big man’s eyes. McMillian’s cranium did the familiar snap back and the big man hit the pavement. Argus knew the damage a bullet could do at point blank range when it went into a skull, and there hadn’t been enough blood spatter for a head wound. The Soul for Hire mentally wrote it off to low blood pressure. Sure, the big guys tended to have high blood pressure, but there were exceptions to every rule.

Argus left through the alley, planning to disappear out the other side, when another rule was broken. The man who had a bullet rip through his skull got up off the pavement, brushed himself off, and began to play with the wound using his index finger.

​Despite his better judgment, Argus stopped his escape to watch. There was no question that he hadn’t missed, and the hitman’s brain was speeding to re-assess the situation. Bored with fingering his torn flesh, McMillian looked up and noticed the man who had just shot him. He waved with his free hand, smiling with an expression of purest glee. The flesh had already started to mend, so when McMillian took his finger out of the crater in his head, it made a slurpy pop. Not bothering to wipe the brains off his digit, the dead man cracked his knuckles and took a single step toward the Soul for Hire.

Argus was the kind of cool and tough that intimidated other tough guys, but he wasn’t stupid. You didn’t stay and blindly shoot at something that had already proved that bullets don’t hurt it when a perfectly good escape route was available, so he turned and ran. The dead man stopped, choosing to stay put, but the sounds of McMillian’s laughter chased the Soul for Hire for hours.

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